


When Two Disaster Gays Fall In Love

by die_traumerei



Series: Bike Girls [4]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Funny, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Slice of Life, Useless Lesbians, injured crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: ...it's probably a good thing they live in a country with socialized medicine. As Crowley recuperates after a bad fall, her girlfriend takes care of her with fancy coffee and stripping.(Originally written for Whumptober 2020)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Bike Girls [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997386
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	When Two Disaster Gays Fall In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Whups, forgot to post this pre-written Bike Girls story! They're such disasters, I lub them <3 This is set about five weeks after they initially meet.
> 
> (cw: stitches)

Crowley closed her laptop, set it aside, and prepared to indulge in a really, really good grump.

She was very good at having Moods, and thought she had really quite the best set up for a sulk she'd had in a long time. Best give it her full attention, and anyway she had run out of internet.

Sulky reason the first: she was here in bed, not out at the Farmer's Market with her brand-new girlfriend.

Sulky reason 1.1: this was because she'd split her kneecap open a few days before and was under doctor's orders to stay still as much as possible. And, more terrifyingly, brand-new _very gorgeous_ girlfriend's order to do the same.

It had been so _dumb_. She'd gone with Aziraphale to a fundraiser at the Village Hall where they'd bought WI jam and had tea and fairy cakes and she had met the vicar. Aziraphale, of course, already knew him, although she later admitted she wasn't as good a churchgoer as she'd been raised to be. “I usually make it once or twice a month,” she admitted, blushing. “And Christmas and Easter and all that.”

The vicar had been nice, at least, and of course asked over Aziraphale's wrist. It was healing beautifully, thank you God, and she'd have the cast off in another week or so if all still looked well. They were planning to drive a few villages over and have a nice dinner to celebrate.

(“We really don't have to,” Aziraphale had said, twisting the fabric of her shirt. “I'll still have to wear a brace for a bit, it's not worth a celebration.”

“Can I take you out because I like you, and want to take you to a good restaurant?” Crowley had asked gently, and Aziraphale smiled.

“I suppose that's a good reason.” And there had been a few kisses, Aziraphale a warm, soft presence in her arms.)

They had both drunk their fill of tea and eaten cakes and admired the display of local history before setting back off home, feeling very virtuous and ready for an afternoon of really hearty sex.

So _of course_ , it was raining and Aziraphale was trying to keep her cast dry under the umbrella and trying to keep Crowley dry too, and Crowley was fussing at her and didn't see the dog mess until she went down. She hadn't seen the broken glass either, until she rolled over to sit up and screamed in surprise and sudden pain.

She'd split her knee open to the bone, and it had been awful, Aziraphale white-faced and worried, and back they were at A&E with Crowley's scarf pressed into temporary bandage service.

They'd had to wait ages, and it really hurt, and Aziraphale was so worried, and _they were supposed to be having sex_. Instead Crowley was in a bed with her leg up on a pillow trying to argue Aziraphale into going home and being comfortable, which didn't work and she really didn't want Aziraphale to leave anyway.

The stitches had been awful, the cane they'd given her was ugly, and she wasn't supposed to walk more than absolutely necessary, for fear of splitting her knee open again.

Literally the only upside was that Aziraphale had basically moved in for a few days, to help take care of her. Not that they were apart much anyway; they seemed to flow from Crowley's house to Aziraphale's flat, and only nominally so Crowley could help her out.

(A broken wrist was _limiting_ , she insisted, and Aziraphale had to take it easy too, her body was working really hard!)

Sulky Reason 2: Aziraphale had found her a really snazzy walking-stick at a charity shop, and she wasn't allowed to show it off yet because of doctor's orders and girlfriend's orders.

Sulky Reason 3: Her leg really hurt and she wanted a hug. A big one. With hair-petting. She wanted to hug Aziraphale and make sure she was okay too. She was due for one last round of x-rays, and Crowley was a little nervous, wouldn't really relax until they knew for sure that she didn't have any complications and had healed well.

Sulky Reason 4: Did she mention she wanted a hug.

Crowley was pondering what reason 5 might be when she heard the front door open and close. Aziraphale!

Or a murderer come to put her out of her misery, the way their luck was going. Honestly, Crowley would welcome _them_ with open arms too.

“I'm back, lovely!” Aziraphale called up the stairs, and yes! Hug incoming! “Let me just put the groceries away and I'll be right up. I got us pumpkin-spice lattes!”

Groceries? _Pumpkin spice lattes_? What was Aziraphale doing? How was she _carrying_ all that? Oh her fucking knee!

Some of her questions were answered when Aziraphale came up the stairs, carryout coffee in one of those cardboard containers. She was cute as a button, of course, resplendent in a cozy cabled jumper and a tartan skirt with knee socks and oh gosh Crowley was just sort of... _gone_. Hopelessly gone.

“Hello, you,” Aziraphale said warmly, setting their coffees down and finally leaning in for a hug. She was cool to the touch, bringing in the autumn chill, but she'd warm quickly. She was always wonderfully warm, and Crowley pressed their cheeks together and hugged her a little tighter.

“Oh, my poor girl,” Aziraphale murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, actually,” Crowley mumbled. “'n I missed you.” Why not just flay her heart open anyways.

“Oh, Crowley.” There. There was her hair being stroked. She wore it short, an undercut with a sassy little pompadour on top, and Aziraphale always stroked the shaved bit at the back of her head, and it felt very nice.

“You should ignore me,” Crowley mumbled. “I'll be fine in a few days.”

“My dearest darling. You don't know me very well yet, do you? I don't do what I'm told. Not in cases like this, anyway,” Aziraphale admitted.

“The rest of the time you're a narc?”

“Quite.” Aziraphale laughed and rocked her a little. “I had over a month of being spoilt by you, you silly duck. Turnabout, fair play, all that.” She kissed Crowley softly. “Drink your coffee, and I'll fetch the paracetamol.”

“Oh yeah. Where did you _find_ pumpkin spice lattes?” Crowley asked, finally settling back and cautiously allowing at least some of her sulk to lift. She took a sip of the drink and got beaten over the head by autumn. Gosh.

“Oh, I asked Newt if he'd consider carrying them,” Aziraphale called airily from the bathroom. “I do like how he makes them. What d'you think?”

“I've...never had one before?” Crowley ventured. “It's...good?”

“Enjoy your sugar high.” Aziraphale said coming back and handing her the precious lovely drugs. “And your basic bitch girlfriend.”

“Well, I didn't want to _say_...”

“Please. I was _born_ cottagecore.” Aziraphale smiled at her and climbed onto the other half of the bed, cup in her good hand. “I got us a lovely quiche for tea, dearest, just have to pop it in the oven to reheat.” She reached out, by necessity with her casted hand, and Crowley laced their fingers together. The bright pink was undiminished, if a little grubby, and this was so much nicer than when she'd had to wear a sling, and they couldn't even really hug all the way.

“Thanks,” Crowley said. “Really. Thank you.”

“You can come with me next Saturday. Maybe we'll finally both be in one piece,” Aziraphale teased. “Your stitches might even be out by then.”

“They'd bloody well better be,” Crowley grumbled, and sipped her coffee again. It was really pretty good, although she'd have to think of a way to work off the sugar high. “And you'll have your cast off.”

“Mmmhmm.” Azirpahale squeezed – a little funny-feeling, since she could only move her fingers, but _her_ , and sweet. “Gosh. It could be the first time we have sex when we're both healthy.”

“I, personally, cannot wait,” Crowley said, and grinned. “Wanna practice?” That should take care of the sugar.

Aziraphale giggled, setting her coffee aside and whipping her jumper off. “I thought you'd never ask.”

There was a peek of lacy bra, just at her collar. Crowley took another slug of her latte, set it aside, and went to work. Best to keep in practice, and all.


End file.
